


Three Christmases

by inkykeys



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Baking, Christmas, Christmas Party, Crushes, F/M, Gift Giving, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-09 10:54:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8888134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkykeys/pseuds/inkykeys
Summary: Reader finally works up the courage, and admits her feelings to Pietro via a Christmas gift. Things don’t go as planned, but after a year apart, can the two fix things in time for Christmas to come again?Fics titled after and inspired by some of my favorite holiday songs.





	1. Wrapped In Red

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter inspired by Kelly Clarkson’s ["Wrapped In Red."](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7IFfZRVRbqM)
> 
> (Possible Warnings for alcohol and intoxication.)

You tweaked your headband, adjusting your elf hat so it was just-so. You puckered your lips, making sure that they were the same glossy, red all over. Perfect, everything was perfect. Tonight was the night, you were going to win over your crush’s heart at Tony’s annual Christmas bash.

You were decked out in the cutest elf costume you could find, opting for an adorable, holiday-inspired look. The short red dress fell just above your knees and your matching red-and-white, striped socks came almost to the hem. You flashed the mirror one last cheerful smile before heading down to the large room where the party was being held.

The space was filled with the smells of the holidays: freshly baked cookies, peppermint, and pine. You inhaled deeply and smiled; it reminded you of home. Christmas carols played softly over the speakers, blending in with the chatter of voices and the tinklings of glasses. Tall trees covered top-to-bottom with glass ornaments and tinsel stretched high up into the lofty ceilings. Gifts wrapped in shiny papers, some with bows, some without, were packed under the trees.

Some were there for you, of course, and others were there from you. While you were excited for the gifts to be opened, there was another thing you were much more excited for. Your eyes scanned the room, picking over the unfamiliar faces, until they settled on the one you wanted.

You slowly picked your way through the gathering crowd towards where Pietro was sitting. He was perched on the arm of one of Tony’s couches, drink in hand, talking to a group of girls you hadn’t seen before.

He called your name when you were near. “I was just telling these lovely ladies about the time Tony tested his suits against me for speed.”

“Ah yes,” you recalled, “and you crashed a hole through an entire city until you got permanently banned?”

The girls snickered and Pietro’s face turned red. “Yes, that did happen.” You caught the sharp scent of alcohol as he took a swig of his drink.

“I didn’t know you drank.”

“I normally do not. There is no point, my metabolism is too fast to stay drunk. But Thor brought down some of his Asgardian liquor, so tonight there is a chance!”

You shook your head and smiled. “Nice, but I actually came over here to ask you a favor.”

“Oh, of course. Excuse me, ladies.” He said, standing up. One in a red dress groaned in protest as he left. You lead him over towards the nearest tree, where no one would hear you.

You licked your lips a few times to make your mouth feel less dry. “So, uh, when you open my present, the one from me, could you, uh, make sure you don’t show anyone the note?” You had debated for weeks on whether or not to tell Pietro how you felt about him, ultimately deciding to do it as part of a Christmas surprise.

His mouth crooked up in a cocky grin. “What did you put in there?”

“It’s a secret. You can show off the present, just please, not the note.”

“Alright,” he said, sensing your sincerity, “I will keep your note a secret. Though, I cannot guarantee anything with Wanda around. Have fun at the party.” He said before zipping off to refill his drink.

You spent the rest of the evening weaving in and out of conversations, drinking, eating, and laughing with the other Avengers. You weren’t the only one dressed up; a few people had Santa hats, one of Bruce’s lab assistants was even all done up like a reindeer. As the night grew later, it came time for opening gifts. You settled down on one of the low sofas next to Maria Hill. She had mentioned something about recruiting you for an upcoming mission and you had laughed. No way you were going to spoil your Christmas thinking about work.

One by one, you opened your gifts. There wasn’t anything big or overly fancy, but they were all well thought-out and made you happy.

You leaned on the armrest, trying to look casual even as you craned your neck to get a better view of Pietro as he opened his gifts. He and Wanda stood by one of the trees, the lights casting them in a soft, reddish glow. He finally got to your gift: a small box carefully wrapped in shiny red paper. You had tucked the note under the gift, hoping he would read it after he admired his present.

He had Wanda hold his drink so that he could use both hands to untie the bow and rip off the paper. His face lit up in a wide smile. Wanda leaned over to see what her brother was excited about. She looked in the box and shook her head, smiling. Ever since Pietro had come to the states, he had found a strange joy in collecting pins and keychains. Everywhere he went, he bought a keychain; his athletic bags jangled when he ran by. So you’d gotten him one to add to the collection: a large button that read “They don’t call me the fastest man alive for nothing,” with his smirking face below. You’d gotten it personalized with what you teased him as “the worst pickup line he could’ve come up with.”

You were glad he liked it, but your stomach was churning with nerves. After what seemed like an eternity, Pietro, in an uncharacteristically slow fashion, lifted the pin to reveal the note. It was a folded, handwritten piece of paper with your romantic confession and some sappy line about Christmas wishes. You’d regretted writing it, but knew you’d never get up the courage to tell him in person.

He looked around the room, locking eyes once he’d found you. He sped over to your side and whispered: “It is about 10:30 now, if this gift opening takes as long as it feels like it will, it should be done in an hour. Meet me at midnight.”

“Where?” You asked nervously. You were afraid he wanted to tell you how he didn’t feel the same, how he didn’t see you like that, how the two of you were just friends in his eyes.

“Under the mistletoe of course.” He said with a wink. In that moment, you were beyond glad you were sitting down, because you felt yourself turn to jelly.

\----

When the gifts had all been opened and people had gone back to milling about, you pried yourself away from the party and snuck back to your room. The butterflies in your stomach were making you nauseous and giddy all at once. You reapplied your lip gloss and fiddled with your clothes: pulling your socks up and smoothing out the non-existent wrinkles on your dress. You looked in the mirror and tried to give yourself a pep talk.

“You’ve got this. He obviously likes you back or he would’ve chosen a different meeting place. Mistletoe!? How cliche.” You turned away from the mirror, glancing at the clock that read 11:54. “Yikes! Better get going.”

You began to walk back towards the bar. Tony had hung a giant sprig of mistletoe nearby to “liven up” the people ordering drinks. As if the drunk weren’t already lively. When you got close you realized Tony must have closed the bar to start winding down the party, that or nobody had bothered to keep tending. Either way, you were glad; you didn’t know how you felt about people witnessing your possible first kiss with Pietro. A large tree was blocking your view, but you knew that if he was, in fact, waiting under the mistletoe, he’d be just behind it.

You knees shook and your heart beat so hard you were afraid he’d hear it from there. You plastered on what you hoped was a cute smile and turned the corner, only to have your face fall into a shocked “O”.

Pietro was leaning hard against the wall, hungrily kissing the girl in red. The same girl you’d seen him talking to before. Hot tears welled up in your eyes and you wanted to scream at him, but you found yourself unable to make a sound. The anger and heartbreak and utter embarrassment made your throat feel swollen and thick. You saw her grab something from his hand and set it on the bar, not once leaving his embrace. They didn’t even notice you.

That was it. You were sure this was all a set up. You turned and sped off out of the room and back towards your own. The fat tears slipped out of your eyes and you wiped them away, promising yourself you wouldn’t sob until you got to your bedroom.

Finally, you slammed your door and fell against it, a sob escaping from your chest. You had never had very good luck with crushes, but this was different. You had put yourself on the line for this and only gotten hurt. And it was so much worse than a rejection. That you could’ve handled, that you had been bracing for. But this, this was a stab in the heart, a kick in the ribs, a spit in the face and laugh. This was way worse than what you expected, way worse than you feared.

You sat there crying until you couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand the way you felt, couldn’t stand being made to feel that way. You texted Maria, hoping she would still be up, asking her about the mission she had mentioned. Anything to get your mind off the vision replaying in your head. His hand on her waist, his mouth on hers, the small giggle that had escaped her, you shook your head, trying to get them out.

\----

You had fallen asleep at some unknown hour. Restlessly turning in your bed, you were woken by your text tone. Maria had gotten back to you with mission details and was excited you were interested. One week, you shipped out in one week. The mission was predicted to take six months and you couldn’t find yourself to be bothered with that. What was the point in sticking around? You had just been utterly humiliated in your one attempt at improving your new year.  
You began to pack for the mission, looking down at the wrinkled, red elf costume you still had on. It was sad in the morning light. You took it off and threw it in the hamper; you couldn’t stand to look at it. What a complete waste your Christmas had been. And to think, just days before you were filled with anticipation for the holiday. Now, you couldn’t wait to leave.


	2. Last Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the events of last year, reader returns from her mission to deal with her feelings about Pietro. Anger and apologies ensue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter inspired by Wham!'s ["Last Christmas"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E8gmARGvPlI)

You stepped out of the airport, small snowflakes sticking in your hair. You had just gotten back from Brazil, the final destination your mission had taken you to. The mission was predicted to take six months, but after complications were had and identities were compromised, you had bounced around South America for an extra five months. 

As much as you had enjoyed the warmth and the sun, you craved the New York winter: the crisp bite of the air on your skin, the white flakes that blanketed everything. You were arriving in New York just at the start of December. You had gotten back to the states almost a week ago, but the debriefing and the SHIELD protocol had delayed your return to the city. You knew things would be different getting back, they always were, but you knew that the holidays would make you feel at home despite your year-long absence.

As you sat in your cab, you bounced your leg, eager to see everyone you had left behind: your friends and coworkers, fellow SHIELD agents, the Avengers. A bitter thought crept into your mind along with the rest. There was one person you weren’t looking forward to seeing.

After the events of last Christmas you didn’t know how you would deal with seeing Pietro again. His betrayal after reading your romantic confession had broken your heart. It was the main reason you had agreed to the mission: to get away. Granted, it wasn’t the best way to deal with your problems, but you had done it. Now, you would have to face the problems you ran from almost a year ago.

\----

You were all-but-tackled from the side as soon as you stepped out of the elevator. Unknown arms wrapped around you in a hug that was just a little too tight. You let out an “oomph”.

“Hey…” you said as they pulled away, “Wanda! I didn’t know that was you!”

“I have been waiting for you to return all year, especially now. I need your help with Christmas!”

“Wait, why?”

“I don’t know how to do any of it! We never did these things in Sokovia.”

You laughed and pulled her in for another hug. Wanda was always trying her best to fit in with the rest of the team. She didn’t want people to think she was weird more than they already did. “I’ll help you just as soon as I get unpacked. Let me put all this stuff away.” You said, gesturing to your two suitcases.

Almost two hours later you made your way into the kitchen to find Wanda sitting on the floor with burned cookies all around her. “Hey, are you okay?”

“No, it is my second Christmas and everyone, they expect me to have all these nice things made like in Europe, but I can not do it! This is the worst Christmas!”

“It can’t be as bad as last year.” You thought, before reaching out to console your troubled friend. “Well, I can’t help you with a Sokovian Christmas, but I can show you how we make cookies where I’m from.”

She perked up a bit, glad for the support. Together the two of you cleaned up her disastrous attempt at baking and began rolling out the dough for your favorite cookie recipe. You put on some holiday tunes and began to hum along. You taught her the words to your favorites and ended up getting covered in flour when you used the rolling pin as a microphone.

\----

You were crouched down, sliding the cookie tray into the oven when you heard a familiar voice that sent unpleasant chills down your spine. “Mmm, it smells nice. What are you…” Pietro trailed off as you stood up. “I did not know you were back.”

You forced a smile. “Just got back this morning.”

“She’s helping me with Christmas.” Wanda said almost protectively.

“Oh, then I will leave you to finish.” He said quietly before speeding off.

Wanda turned to you, “I know what happened between the two of you last year. I-”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You cut her off. You knew it was childish, but you wished you could just forget everything that had happened. You had spent the past year doing your best to push the memory out of your head, to move on, get over it. You thought you were over it. But seeing Pietro again, hearing his voice, it made your heart both swell and deflate.

“He has been meaning to talk to you about it. So even if you don’t want to tell me, he will probably talk to you about it sometime soon.”

You sighed, “Yeah, I know. I can’t keep running away from this, but it’s Christmas! I wish I could just have a good Christmas instead of a crap Christmas.”

“That is what we are trying to do, is it not?” She said, gesturing to the cookies.

You smiled. “Yeah, it is.”

\----

You were decorating the small tree you had set up, or rather never fully taken down, when you heard a faint knock at your door. The pit of your stomach filled with nervous dread and you cautiously opened the door. Pietro stood there, bundled up in a hoodie, a tiny present in hand.

You fought the urge to slam the door shut, but instead opened your mouth to talk. “What do you want?”

He cringed at the bitterness of your voice. “I meant to give you this last year.” His voice was nervous, “But then I…”

“I know Pietro, I was there.”

“But you don’t know! I didn’t mean to hurt you like that, I didn’t know who I was kissing. I honestly had no clue.” You scoffed, no way in hell he was getting off that easy. “I was drunk, first time since the experiments. I had a hangover for all of the next day. Ask anyone, it’s true.”

It made sense, he had been excited to try and get intoxicated, but it didn’t matter. You didn’t spend last Christmas crying your eyes out to forgive him just like that. “Pietro I don’t care if you were blind drunk, you really hurt me.” You said, working yourself up. “Even if you weren’t kissing that girl just to mess with me, doesn’t mean that you still weren’t kissing that girl where and when you told me to meet you.”

“I wish I could have told you sooner! I wish I could have fixed all this! Please,” he said quieting down, “just open this. Maybe it will make things better.” He tried to press the silver box into your hands but you pulled away.

“I don’t want your shitty apologies!”

“If I prove to you that I am sorry, will you open the gift?” He asked, his voice filled with quiet desperation.

“Yeah, fine.” You said, your heart melting just a little, hating the fact that you still had a soft spot for him. “I’ll give you till Christmas.”

\----

The days till Christmas seemed to fly by. You were constantly busy spending time with everyone you missed. The time you did have to yourself was mostly spent wandering around the city. Though you did go for the weather and the holiday atmosphere, part of you hoped that the less time you spent in the tower, the less time you would have to spend worrying about Pietro.

He had taken to leaving you notes. He would zip by and drop them off. They were creased and torn from constant folding and unfolding. Some were wrinkled from being crumpled and then smoothed. Others contained words that bled together, damaged by the rain. Some had poems, some had apologies, some had stories from the day they were written. They were all addressed to you and you knew that they were from the past year: letters he had written but couldn’t send.

With each one your heart grew more confused. For the last year, you had hated him with every fiber of your being, hated him the way jilted lovers do. But now, you were bombarded with him, constant and open. He was trying to get you to see things his way, trying to get you to forgive him. You hated it, because every gentle thought you had about him was chased by a stabbing memory. You desperately wanted to forgive him, to act like last year had never happened, but the pain in your chest prevented it.

You were returning from one of your city walks when you walked in on Pietro talking with someone. She turned slightly and you recognized her as the girl. The girl you’d found kissing your silver-haired crush under the mistletoe last year. You bristled, slowing your pace to eavesdrop.

“So, I know we didn’t spend much time together this year, but do you think we could have another Christmas like last year?”

“You know I never meant for last year to happen.”

“Aw come on!” She tugged at his arm and you wanted to throw up. “It was fun!”

“It was.” Anger bubbled up hot, and you considered storming away. “But that doesn’t make it okay. I owe it to someone not to make those mistakes again.”

She frowned, drawing her eyebrows into sharp, downward lines. “Fine. If that’s how you’re gonna be.” She stormed off, heels clacking on the tile.

Pietro sighed and turned around, spotting you. You were frozen to the spot. “Did you mean that?” Your voice was almost a whisper.

“Yes.” His voice was just as quiet as yours, slipping earnestly out of his lips.

That was it. You looked at him and you didn’t hate him, you looked at him and it felt like before. “I’ll open your present now.”

“Really?” He looked taken aback. “You want to?”

“Yes, I do.” You grabbed his arm and pulled him along towards his room.

“Tomorrow is Christmas, wouldn’t you want to open it then?”

“No, right now. I want to know what you got me.” He opened the door and led you inside. The space was dark except for a string of white lights. “Are those mine?” You asked, gesturing to the strand.

He smiled sheepishly. “I liked the way they looked.” He handed you the tiny present. The two of you sat on the edge of the bed and you slowly peeled the shiny paper off.

Inside lay a fired bullet. The small copper-colored cone was attached to a matching chain. “What’s this?” You asked, holding it up to get a better look.

“The first bullet you ever fired at me during training. I caught it.”

“I remember.” You said smiling. “You’re such a show off.” The smile that spread across his face made you smile even wider. “Why did you keep it?”

“At first I did not know. Now, I think it is because I got shot that day. Not by your bullets, but by your smile.”

“God, that’s so cheesy!”

“So was your note.”

“Shut up!”

“Tomorrow, the only person I will be kissing under the mistletoe is you. I promise.”

Your heart did happy flips, and for the first time in a year you didn’t have a problem with mistletoe. “Why don’t you kiss me right now?”

“I won’t have anything to give you tomorrow then.”

\----

You went back to your room, a large smile on your face. You changed into your pajamas and went to bed early. Like a child, you hoped that the sooner you went to bed, the sooner Christmas morning would arrive.


	3. Winter Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader and Pietro spend their first Christmas together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter inspired by Kelly Clarkson's ["Winter Dreams."](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wF2ZeoUjcZ0)

Despite going to bed early, you still didn’t roll out of bed till late. You padded over to the window and tore open the curtains, revealing a steady flutter of fat snowflakes. The coolness of the glass chased away your morning grogginess and left you filled only with excitement.

You sang Christmas carols as you showered and dressed. Your closet was filled mostly with the clothes you brought back from your mission in Brazil, nothing appropriate for the winter holiday. Finally, you dug out a red-and-white sweater that was buried in the back. Again, you puckered your lips at the mirror, a pang of doubt ran through your mind but you pushed it away, assuring yourself that this time you would be getting kissed under mistletoe.

You bounced down to the kitchen, where the party was just starting. A bunch of SHIELD girls were huddled around the island counter laughing. The scents of cocoa and coffee wrapped around you. “Come join us!” Pepper called out.

You nestled your way into a small space between Wanda and one of Bruce’s lab assistants Grace. Someone handed you a mug of cocoa and you felt at home. “I want to congratulate you,” Maria began, “on doing a wonderful job in South America. Things got way worse than I thought they’d be, but you did good.”

“Thanks! Honestly though, the team you put together was truly one of the best I’ve ever worked with.” Maria began to fill the group in on some of the team members you had worked with in Brazil. You listened halfheartedly, letting your mind wander to your Christmas “gift.”

“Did you kiss him yet?” Wanda whispered to you.

You almost spit out your cocoa. “What?”

“Aww, c’mon, you are practically filling my head with images of my brother. I am not even trying to read your mind.”

You could feel your face warm. “Not yet.”

She bumped your shoulder playfully. “Get it over with, I am dying here.”

\----

You were huddled in the back of the room next to the table of cookies. Your eyes flitted around the room as you nibbled to edge of one of the ones you’d baked with Wanda. The room was warm. Along with the shuffle of bodies, Tony had lit the fireplace this year. Where you stood, the crackle of wood could be faintly heard over the chatter of people.

You reached for another cookie, turning around to examine the variety. When you turned back you bumped your head into a chest. Looking up, you found Pietro smiling down at you. “Hey, didn’t see you there,” you joked, “can I help you with something?”

“Actually,” he drew his words out slowly, “I can think of one thing.”

“Oh? And what would that be?”

“I don’t think you noticed, but we are standing underneath mistletoe.”

You raised your eyebrows and looked up to see his arm extended above the two of you. He held a small sprig of red berries. You laughed, “Pietro, those are holly berries. Mistletoe is white.”

“It is?” He turned red before speeding off with a “Be right back.” He returned with a sprig of white berries and a sheepish grin. You shook your head, what a dork. You leaned up onto your tiptoes, and he bent down till you were at the same level. You smiled as you pressed your lips to his, so much happier with this Christmas than the last.

His lips were soft on yours and his breath tasted faintly of peppermint. You reached up to run your fingers through his hair when you heard an excited voice shout “Finally!”

You tore away from Pietro to see Wanda clapping. “Best Christmas yet!”

\----

Pietro’s arms were wrapped lightly around your waist as the two of you stood watching everyone opening gifts. “We have such a weird history with Christmas.”

“When I think of Christmas, I think of you.”

“Aww, but really, what was Christmas like when you were little?”

“I dunno, we never had Christmas.”

“You never had Christmas!?”

“No, Wanda and I were raised Jewish.”

“Wait, really? We’ve had these extravagant parties for Christmas, and you were Jewish the whole time?!”

“We didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. Christmas just seemed like something you did in America, so we just tried our best to fit in.”

You leaned your head against his shoulder and smiled. “Well we can make Christmas our thing then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda super short, but whatever. I tried to incorporate the Maximoffs' comic heritage despite this being a Christmas fic.

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted to my [tumblr](http://inkstainedkeyboard.tumblr.com/) last Christmas, but I never posted it on here. I've since tweaked a couple of things, but the story remains the same.


End file.
